


There's a Lot You Can Teach Me, So I Wanna Know

by publicity



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, I am, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rimming, also top ouma if you're into that, these two are nasty please someone write horny shit for them who's not me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/publicity/pseuds/publicity
Summary: i wouldn't consider myself a writer, but i love ougoku so much. it really disappoints me that their relationship is so little explored and has such little content! i hope i can inspire people to create more for ougoku, that's all!check out my art (related): https://twitter.com/r18bszku/status/1070163508954890240





	There's a Lot You Can Teach Me, So I Wanna Know

**Author's Note:**

> i wouldn't consider myself a writer, but i love ougoku so much. it really disappoints me that their relationship is so little explored and has such little content! i hope i can inspire people to create more for ougoku, that's all!  
> check out my art (related): https://twitter.com/r18bszku/status/1070163508954890240

"Gonta, come here."

Gonta pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, just a bit slick with sweat from the sun slowly but surely green-housing the room. His large back was hunched over an entomologist favored encyclopedia.

"What Ouma want?" he asked. The only slight turn of his head and submissive posture suggested that, despite no red flags, he was suspecting the worst. His hesitance made Ouma grin bright and wide, almost frighteningly so, gesturing with the pull of a single pale finger.

"Just come here, baby." 

He didn't need to be asked again. Despite the tail between his legs, Gonta went to Ouma obediently, a flush on his face from the heat and then some, loving the nickname, loving how Ouma took his large hands and held them, his grip shockingly gentle. Ouma wore a warm face as he approached and fiddled along the length of Gonta's thumbs.

"It's getting hot in here, huh, Gonta?" he chirped. Puzzled, Gonta said nothing. Ouma wrung their hands together and showed him where their brief contact had left a sheen of sweat. 

"Right? Riiiight?" Mesmerized by their touching, Gonta nodded, which gave Ouma permission enough to continue, not like he needed it.

"You're so smart, Gonta." his fingers continued to dance over the top of Gonta's, and he keenly noted how his muscles tensed and relaxed at the compliment. "Since you think so too, I think I'm gonna get naked!" Gonta's body quickly withdrew, but Ouma caught his hands again.

"Ouma no take off clothes! Not here!" he pleaded.

"Aw, why not?" Ouma replied, but his tone suggested it was merely a segway and he had already dropped it. "How about _you_ then? Just a peak? I think I've earned a right to a backstage pass!" his eyes shined in expectancy, but Gonta's face contorted and he shook his head, tousles of green hair flying in his face. 

"But you must be so _hot_ underneath that overcoat. In fact," There was something untraceable in his voice. "You make me hot just looking at you." The double entendre went over Gonta's head. 

He thought about it, the idea being tossed back and forth in his thick skull almost tangibly. 

"Well, Ouma right. Gonta starting to sweat." 

"Eeeew." he teased, and Gonta looked flustered. "It's okay, I already knew it. Take it off, baby!" 

Per command, he began to shrug his bug carrier off his shoulders, then suit jacket, folding it neatly on a desk. The musing began when his hands reached for his collar; Gonta couldn't believe that over the course of a few weeks it had come to this -- the obedience he had adopted for Ouma. But it wasn't all bad. Ouma frequently called upon him for favors, but the praise he received glowed blindingly in his chest for days afterward. And if that's all he had to do, what was not to love? His fingers continued to fuss with the buttons, down, down to his navel. The predatory stare glued to that trail did not occur to him. When he finished undressing, Ouma's wolf-whistle that followed was drawled and mocking. Despite a now much cooler exposed chest and torso, Gonta's glasses fogged, and he adjusted them accordingly. 

"Look at those!" Ouma held his hands up in a wanton cupping gesture and jiggled an invisible pair of breasts. He laughed hard and loud while Gonta's face burned, the noise ringing in his ears. Ouma twirled his finger in the air languidly, his chin propped up neatly in his other hand. "Do a little spin for me." Gonta did. 

He certainly had something to gawk at; from an objective standpoint, Gonta's body was built spectacularly, his tall and sturdy frame supporting a well-oiled machine that screamed masculinity, save for a plush and ample chest.

"Gonta embarrassed." he admitted, his eyes on the floor.

"I'd be embarrassed too if I had big tits like a girl. Do Iruma and Akamatsu know you're stacked? I bet they'd be real jealous!" 

_A girl, huh?_ Gonta was flattered if not duel-parts horrified at the suggestion. He couldn't grasp why Ouma was reveling in the bare sight of him, but he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the attention -- so he didn't lie. 

"Thank you." he responded, a nervous arm coming up to toy with his unruly hair. Ouma's face was quickly became half-lidded and angry, unsatisfied with the response.

"Did you hear me? I _said_ \--" he launched himself off of his previous perch and seized Gonta, effortlessly getting behind him and hooking under his tanned arms to palm at his tits. "--you're built like a dumb _bimbo!_ "

His head hazy and struggling to keep up with the pace, Gonta was immobilized. He cried out in a pitch that delighted Ouma and encouraged the assault on his chest. His face was lit with nothing but glee in that moment, stare ablaze with pure fun, like he was watching the circus. 

"Wow, you've got tits like a whore, and you moan just like a whore, too." the debauched statement held no relation to Ouma's wide smile. His fingers dragged over and into Gonta's skin, entertaining himself.

"Ouma, stop, please!" Gonta huffed each word independently between groans. 

"Aw, don't be such a bitch. Who are you, Iruma? I thought we were friends!" Ouma's fake dejection penetrated Gonta, whose face briefly flashed regret. "So sensitive! You really are just a girl. Well, that's okay, I want to try something else."

Ouma detached himself from his back and made a clean sweep around to his front, where Gonta watched with baited breath as he dove his mouth onto one soft pec and sucked.

Gonta's heaved, only further pushing his tit into Ouma's mouth with an uneven rock of his chest. His breath quickened. Ouma's lips held their teasing pull on his nipple like a persistent fish on a line, starting to suck harder, his tongue alive and hot between his teeth. He stayed content and unphased when Gonta's voice once again exclaimed, then died down to short and stifled moans. Ouma snaked a hand around his hip and held him there while he pleasured himself on Gonta's tit.

"Gonta...really not a girl, Ouma. And Ouma not a baby." he said after a while. It was all he could think of, but it made sense to him. Gonta shifted nervously in place under Ouma's mouth, worried he may have brought about some unforeseen revelation. It wasn't only his knowledge of the birds and bees that had dawned on him, but the rising feeling in his gut that he was wrong, very wrong for enjoying Ouma's game, and it was a gentleman's job to cut it short. Ouma released his vise with a wet pop. He replaced it with his palm rubbing gentle circles into the cushion of Gonta's tit and breathed a satisfied sigh when the giant flinched.

"If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were just _acting_ stupid, but I guess you really are." he moved to his other pec and gave it an open-mouthed kiss. Gonta's eyes were glued to him, petrified yet bewitched. "I'm doing this 'cause it's fun!" His beaming grin was, for once, not giving Gonta any reassurance.

"Gentleman not do this kind of thing." he insisted, to which Ouma couldn't help but snicker.

"And how would _you_ know that?" It stung, but Gonta didn't know at all. "Just let me make the both of us feel good. You can thank your supreme leader later." Ouma sunk his reach lower to the apex of Gonta's thigh. 

"I think you should take the rest off now."

"Ouma..."

"Pretty please?" he interjected.

"O-Ouma..." Gonta couldn't bear to deny him outright.

"Watch closely, I'll do it, too." he reached around to undo his scarf, tossing it to the ground unceremoniously. Next, he took a hold of the hem of his shirt and did away with it. Gonta's eyes followed its trajectory and, against his advice, avoided contact with Ouma's thin, exposed chest all the while.

"Aaah, that's better!" his hands found a place to pose behind his slightly disarranged head. "What do you think? We're at second base now!"

"What that mean?"

"It means," Ouma began, "The show's almost over." to this, Gonta looked rejuvenated, his large hands in motion.

"What next?"

"I want to see your dick." Ouma punctuated his phrase with a coy smile, eyes on the prize. Gonta's body tensed and enveloped itself bashfully, the sweat on his brow shining. 

"W-Why Ouma want to see Gonta's...?" but the sentence died in his suddenly very dry mouth. Ouma looked inert. He stared at him, stared past him, and said nothing. Gonta dared not assume, but thought as though it looked like, for once, Ouma was not so quick on the trigger.

"No reason!" he finally relayed with cheer. "Like I said, I'll be doing it, too. A little 'I'll-show-you-mine-you-show-me-yours.' I may be a liar, but I _always_ play fair." Gonta tried to be convinced. Still in reaching distance, Ouma lunged for his belt and undid it for him, laying it to rot where the rest of their clothes were gathering. Gonta's hair stood on end as he on-looked the sight of, like a child messily unwrapping a present, Ouma yanking his pants and underwear down to his knees. He eagerly seized Gonta's bare cock and gave it a slacken hand.

"Hehe, you're not even hard yet, and I can tell this fat thing would split me open if I sat on it." Gonta covered his flushed face under the guise of another glasses-readjust, the praise almost completely subsiding his horror. 

"Come on, wake up, sleepy-head!" Ouma inspirited, stroking Gonta's dick to life. He wheezed and pleaded Ouma's name as his half-mast slowly rose to attention, pert, healthy, and as expected, much too big for one of his hands to adore. Ouma quickly understood and admitted to using both hands for a few rough strokes, spitting into his palm every now and again. Lacking technique but making up for it in passion, a crazed and hungry look in his eyes replaced a once playful demeanor. 

"That's it, big guy. Very good!"

"Um..." Gonta mustered a desperate sound. "Ouma _said_ he would...also..." Ouma paused his brutal handjob for a dramatic display of his drooping shoulders. 

"You don't really want to see my dick, do you?" he whined, and Gonta retracted. "It's not that big, not big at all..." his disheartening tone abpuptly shifted. "...but, if tiny dicks are your thing, I guess I can keep my word for once. Such a pervert, Gonta!" 

"Gonta not a--!"

"Don't lie to me!" Ouma accused. He sprung up, back turned as he stripped himself of his bottoms and loudly colored briefs. Pants discarded, they fell into a heap with the melodic clinking of belt loops. Ouma spun to rejoin Gonta and displayed his naked dick with pride. It was, admittedly, lackluster in size. Nonetheless, his hips gave a coquettish sway that hypnotized Gonta's eyes.

"Please don't look!" Ouma begged, though there was no trace of conviction in his voice, or the way he jutted his pelvis forward. "I told you it was tiny. Not all of us can be big-tittied, big-dicked sex monsters like you, Gonta! You were made for fucking!" 

"Gonta like Ouma's 'thing." he concluded. "And Gonta's body made for bug science, nothing else." he pointed out, his smile beginning to return. Ouma appeared overjoyed, his arms outstretched widely to insist on his invitation:

"If you like it so much, what's say you let me stick it in you?" 

Gonta clamoured to object, but there was little room for debate as Ouma, with little resistance, guided him to his hands and elbows. When Gonta hesitated, Ouma used his foot to give him one last guided shove to the floor, effectively knocking the glasses off of his face. Ouma's features were flooded with delight. "Just like a dog. Even a dummy like you knows what it looks like." 

Gonta felt pitiful, he felt confused, and most shamefully, he felt the need to accept what Ouma threw his way. It wasn't proper, but then again, could his day-to-day desire to hold Ouma's hand or lift him into his arms be just as uncouth? His cheeks flared as he pictured it. Things couples do. Those are things he wanted to do most with Ouma. He realized, with Ouma's hand tracing patterns into the small of his back and inching downwards, this might be as close as he could get. 

Without a warning, Ouma licked a broad stroke across Gonta's anus. His legs buckled and a holler escaped him. 

"Aw, relaaax!" he scoffed. Where his mouth had prepared, the tip of Ouma's thumb dug into. "You're lucky I love you soooo much, otherwise I wouldn't give you any prep at all!" Gonta's heart was fit to bursting. Ouma continued to work him and watched his progress, slobbering on his asshole again when needed. Being only spit, nothing spectacular came of lubrication, but Gonta was soon howling as he attempted to apply reverse pressure against Ouma's fingers. He admired the dense muscles of his thighs and behind, the manly features giving way to him with ease and content. "Just like a dog." he repeated, less of an insult, and more of a conclusion.

Through the gap between his quaking legs, Gonta peered down and saw Ouma's slight physique align itself, the prod of his small dick on his ass. He grasped handfuls of Gonta's hips as he mounted him. 

"You must be so happy, Gonta! Your supreme leader wants your body enough to fuck you, so now's the time to say 'thank you!" Ouma craned his neck to see Gonta to obey him, his grin wide and eager.

"Th-Thank you."

"Eeew, what kind of pathetic whore thanks someone for giving them dick? Sheesh!" he snickered to himself while Gonta grimaced below.

With a shrug and a swivel of his pelvis, Ouma engulfed his modest cock inside of Gonta, who sputtered out, then was uncharacteristically silent -- until Ouma began to rock his hips. Politely at first, slowly descending into a personal cadence that undid his composure. Gonta groaned and shook, again meeting the motion of Ouma's thrusting. 

"Oh, look who's having fun, now?" he provoked, though what little edge there was left in his voice was being sucked out of him through the tip of his cock and into the compact heat of Gonta's asshole. He huffed loudly through his mouth, his remaining strength committed to keeping his balance and grip.

"Ouma...Ouma..." Gonta chanted his name with no rhythm or reason. A sensation was setting up inside him, and as he began to lose himself under Ouma's considerable performance, he instinctively chased after it.

"You're not gonna tell me to go deeper, are you? Faster?" despite Ouma's mocking, he did. "Soooo impatient! You know I'm working with limited equipment, here!" 

The new, fervent motions awakened him. Gonta shouted and cried, loud and perverse. His brows knitted together and his teeth clenched in appreciation for Ouma's dick which, despite its stature, was intent on slamming into his prostate with each punch of his hips. Ouma's searching arm extended to give him a reach-around, twisting his palm over the swollen head. Gonta shouted blindly, bucking into his hand, cumming with a choke and a wheeze into a spill on the floor beneath him.

Ouma continued his pace as he awaited Gonta's return to rationality. He eventually threw Ouma a questioning peer over his shoulder when his high had subsided.

"I just wanted you to really feel this!" 

Ouma buried his dick completely within Gonta as he came, letting go a bold and triumphant sigh. Gonta whimpered and became rigid around him again for a few short thrusts as Ouma fed his cum back inside and held it there, what little there was of him softening to its normal repute. 

After unsheathing and admirning his handiwork, Ouma wasted no time basking in the afterglow. He rose to his feet and tampered over to the clothes once abandoned. Still visibly buffering, Gonta watched him dress and fix the strands on his head matted with sweat. 

"Gonta...feels..." Ouma did not look up. "Wet."

"I bet you do, big guy!" he dismissed, adjusting his neckerchief. "But don't worry, despite taking me bareback like a slut, you can't get pregnant. Congrats!" 

There was yet more silence between them. Gonta's chest distended as he spoke from his place on the floor, motivated by neither courage nor stupidity.

"Does Ouma...really love Gonta?" 

Ouma first looked upon him like he had seen a ghost, then returned to toying with the tendrils of his hair; picture perfectly, save for a loud snap of chewing gum.

"No."

"Well," he denoted, glasses groped for and now retrieved, balanced precariously low on his nose. "Gonta loves Ouma. Gonta wants to kiss and... do couple-things." 

Ouma knelt down to him, his fingers coming to thread and grip painfully a handful of his scalp, and invited himself into Gonta's mouth, all tongue, and retreated. 

"Don't worry, we'll do more than a _couple_ things!"


End file.
